


Legends Of Time

by chinarai



Category: Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time, The Legend of Zelda
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:19:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinarai/pseuds/chinarai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Princess of Destiny and the Hero of Time meet and love ensues. iv: Northern Downpour: The Hero of Time smiled to himself, musing on how he often missed the feel of her skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Superhero

**Author's Note:**

> Just another drabble/one-shot collection but set/based in/on Ocarina of Time instead - whooray!

Her fingers, clean, entwine with his, scarred and rough, tainted with blood that will never disappear no matter how many times he washes his hands. The room is plain. The bright light casts long shadows on the white floor; they stretch across the room and touch the legs of his bed and the hem of her long fine dress. He is silent, immobile, the air he breathes comes out in ragged breaths through chapped lips, his blond hair lays sprawled on the pillow. One eye is closed; the other, bandaged.

What can she do in a time like this? Only sit and wait, and hold his hands when he wakes from his deep restless sleep, and fights the delirium and the pain. His voice is hoarse when he screams incoherent words into the quiet room, startling medics, nurses and whoever is nearby. Her grip is strong, but his is stronger, and she fights back tears of pain, for him and for her, as he trashes in bed and bleeds before her eyes, but she is powerless to do anything and deeply blames herself for the way it all happened.

He no longer fights death. They have his condition established, all wounds treated and closed, except for one. He could have died, she tells herself; he could have died out there, out in the open field when he got separated from the army he was leading and was caught by surprise by the enemy. It must have hurt so much, and must have taken a lot of courage, which he has, a lot of it, filling his soul to the brim, to take out the arrow that pierced his right eye.

They had to remove it, else he would die of infection. It was a mystery how he didn’t die of blood loss, or how he managed to find a stray horse and return to Hyrule Castle.

The people ask for him. They had seen his condition when he arrived by himself on top of an unfamiliar horse, barely balancing himself on its back as a hand clutched his face and the other his sides. There were broken and cracked ribs, fingers, cuts and a concussion; and then there was the eye. They see him as a superhero, feared by death and the mortal; but he is only human, and he bleeds and he is broken, he struggles just like everyone else.

Zelda brushes away his fringe with her fingertips, afraid that he will break under her touch. He is the one who says that, who uses only the gentlest motions on her. He is ruthless when he needs to protect, and tender when he needs to love, and oh does he love her.

He stirs under her touch, his breath hitches in a sharp intake of air when his mind accesses the throbbing pain in his eye socket. One tired blue iris peek at her through the gap of his eyelids, and she tries so hard to smile but it feels like a grimace. But he smiles, softly and lovingly, at her, and she cries before his eye.

He chooses to ignore it, and tightens his fingers around hers as much as he can. “Good morning.” She can’t contain the sob that flees her mouth and turns her head away, but he has already seen it all; the tears, the worry, the dark circles under her eyes, the hollow in her cheeks and her reddening nose. Her hands, he notices, are thin and fragile in his; her fingers almost bony now.

“You haven’t been eating,” he says, and she clamps a hand over her mouth. Her head shakes, her waterfall of blonde hair swaying and glinting under the light that is slowly reaching them. “You need to take care of yourself.” Zelda wants to scream at him, and say that he should be worrying about his health, but she always comes first and he won’t change it now, she knows it.

The hero of many wars holds her hand between his palms; they are warm and his fingers are still bandaged. She tries to compose herself and glue her pieces together; she can’t afford to be weak now of all times. Digits trace the back on her hand and the inner side of her wrist, trailing the veins under her pale skin, and the princess shivers, shudders, and wants to pull away out of guilt, but he is strong, and she isn’t. “You need to go out more.” He says as a fingertip taps the center of her palm; he never liked it that she didn’t take enough walks to sunbathe and usually forced her to go to the courtyard for at least five minutes whenever he could. The same finger is pressed to her pulse, her fingers curl around empty air.

He is pretending, she realizes. Pretending that this is just another injury that will heal over time, pretending that one day he will see the world with both eyes again. Her fingers dig into the skin of her palm; he sees it, but doesn’t say anything. Light reaches her left hand, touches the golden band around her ring finger and it shines gloriously, just like his that lay on the bedside table over his gauntlets. It makes her think if he will ever love her like he did before she sent him to the war, sent him to a near death experience.

The sun sinks lower, casts red hues over the white walls of the infirmary. Link glances out the window, only now noticing that it is close to nightfall. The sun glares at him, his hair turns bright orange, and his grip tightens around her hand, almost painfully, as he blinks against the light.

Blinks only the right eye.


	2. II: Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know what I was aiming for haha I wanted to write cute TP Zelink, but in the end it turned out to be OOT Zelink and I'm okay with it!
> 
> I reaaally need to write more Zelda, so feel free to send me prompts on chinarai tumblr, leave a prompt in your review or even PM me; I'll do my best!
> 
> Enjoy! xx

* * *

**II: Hair**

* * *

He threads his fingers through her hair. It's smooth, silky; it flows between his fingers like cool water from a stream, knotless, shines beautifully under the afternoon sun, smells as sweetly as a dozen of bloomed roses, cascades down her back as free as a waterfall.

He threads his fingers through her hair, amazement swelling up inside him, the softness of her locks feel so foreign in his rough, callused palms, so used to wielding swords and weapons, carrying shields and shooting arrows. Maybe her hair isn't that soft, maybe it's just his battle ragged hands and agitated mind playing tricks on him, but still her locks slips between the gaps of his fingers, curls slightly at the end and blows gently in the breeze.

It's golden, like many treasures he found in so many dungeons, golden and rich like the crown she wears on her head. It shines like the clean waters of Lake Hylia under the midday sun, maybe like the sun itself. He twists a strand in his fingers, watches as the sliver of sparkles travel up and down her fine hair; pulls it all back and up in a ponytail, holds it there so he can study her elegant neck and the curve of her shoulders, the fair skin of her nape and the clasp of a sapphire necklace that doesn't shine as bright as her eyes.

He lets it go, sees her hair falling down in slow motion, locks floating to rest against her back. She remains silent, one small content smile on her lips as her lean fingers pluck at the green blades of grass and knot a series of white flowers together. She exhales through her nose, his rough fingertips accidentally brush the crook of her neck and pull her hair away once again, and he separates it in three thick locks and starts braiding it, loosely, messily, and once he is halfway through he decides against it, so he releases her hair, it falls behind her like a waterfall.

She shifts and turns around, and he's surprised when her hair is tugged away and flows free from his grasp. He meets her eyes, crinkled in a smile, and he smiles in return, a boyish grin that will never leave his face no matter how many battles he has fought and won, no matter how many years pass and he grows old and wrinkly. Her features soften, her hands find his head and take off his worn out green cap, her fingers weave through his loosely tied hair until it falls loose, but never as free as hers, the tips swaying in the breeze and grazing his covered shoulder.

Again she smiles, that one smile that makes his heart ache, and she lifts her hands again, a flower crown of windflowers rests on top of his head, and he doesn't know if he sees or imagines thetears in her eyes. But her grin is wide and bright, like all the stars and the moon above, and so he allows himself to forget as they stand at the foot of a hill far from Hyrule Castle. He moves in closer, hands gently cradling her face and angling her head, and his lips find hers, and hers find his, and the wind blows past them, carrying petals and singing a soundless song.

He threads his fingers through her hair, fingers tingling as if he has touched the most valuable of treasures, skin burning as if he has dipped it into a pot of melted gold.

They pull away and smile, almost dumbly, perhaps foolishly in love.

He threads his fingers through her hair, never holding it for too long, because it's most beautiful when it flows free like time itself.

And so he dips his head forward, and they kiss again.


	3. III: Birds And Bees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just exporting the fanfic I wrote for my friend Hannah/gustjar and an anon on my Zelda blog, heroesofhyrule.
> 
> In which Link never learned about the birds and bees huehue
> 
> Enjoy!!

* * *

**III: Birds And Bees**

* * *

Link took his time to slip his arms through the holes of his tunic as the doctor went through his notes and studied the case at hand, round glasses slipping down his long nose and falling off his thin face. The young adult had entered the small clinic in a back alley of Castle Town that morning, claiming he was sick and that he felt weird pains in his chest at times of the day. He tried his best to describe what it felt like, but all the details were too vague to help pinpoint one specific illness, and the doctor’s tall and slim physique only set him off. Boney hands poked at him as they went through a series of exams and tests, and the blond tried very hard not to cringe whenever a rough jab was directed at his ribs. 

Many pages were turned and words were read, and Link could feel his impatience growing as time crawled and he got no answer from the doctor. His feet itched for him to move, to either pace around or to force the man to say the truth soon, so he rubbed his wrists anxiously in a poor attempt to soothe his nerves.

Finally, the doctor snapped one book shut and met Link’s inquisitive stare with steady eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, “There isn’t any illness that fits your description.” He watched as his patient’s mouth was left agape and shifted under his wide blue eyed gaze. “You’re a healthy lad,” The doctor added, returning the book to the shelf. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” Rupees were dropped on the desktop and the blond man left the clinic without a word.

Castle Town was bursting with life when Link entered the main plazza. The rich scent of food all around him from the different stands and shops offering meals and goodies for those who sought to have lunch out of their homes were appealing enough to make his mouth water and his stomach grumble, and he had to resist the urge to spend some money on candies to satisfy his sweet tooth as he maneuvered his way through the crowd and worked his way towards Hyrule Castle; he had been invited for lunch by the princess herself and he wouldn’t ruin his appetite by eating sugar loaded snacks.

Where once had been resistance to let him in now were guards that greeted him rather warmly when he came over, and no guides were needed anymore for he could find any room of the castle with his eyes closed; many days and many nights exploring dungeons taught him that. The hero had been fine until he set a foot inside the palace and the palpitations of his heart along with his strong pulse at the base of his neck reappeared all of sudden, and he had to stop a few rooms away from the dining room to catch his breath and compose himself. His linen shirt was already sticking to his back by the time he stopped by the door and knocked, and one Sheikah greeted him with a frown on her face at the sight of dilated pupils and nervous smile.

She smiled then, almost knowingly, and opened the door further to let him in. Princess Zelda was sitting at the end of a long dining table, scroll in hands as she read to wait for his arrival, but it was soon put away when she saw him by the door, and he took his now usual seat to her right. 

Lunch was served and time passed slowly, Link could barely register the taste of the food due to being so focused on his wild heartbeat that he could have swallowed the trukey breast whole and wouldn’t have noticed. The dessert, the part he was looking up to ever since he was invited, passed by in a blur and only a few traces of cream and peach lingered on his tongue. Now, sitting on the courtyard where they had met years ago, Link came to a sudden realization as Zelda went about political welfares with the Zoras. 

He was going to die.

These random pains, his heart rate that sped up at random times, all these symptoms that weren’t known by men or written in books could only mean that he had one rare disease that was, much probably, incurable. Link was never one to fear death, but the tought of dying like this was unnerving. So he did the only thing he could at the moment: he breathed in deeply and held in the tears.

"Link, are you crying?"

Maybe he didn’t do a good job to fulfill the second part of his plan, and there was no way to stop the tears flowing from his face. Zelda frowned in concern as she lowered the scroll to her lap and placed her hands on his shoulders, soothing him with shushing sounds as Link did something so unlike him right before her eyes. It was like witnessing the moon falling from the sky; it just didn’t happen. 

"Zelda, I’m broken."

"You’re what?"

"I’m gonna die."

“ _You’re what!?_ ”

The hero pulled away from her and tried to pull himself together, summoning the little dignity he had left from the pits of his throbbing heart. After one sniff and a long sigh he licked his lips and focused his gaze on the neatly trimmed grass, not knowing where to start explaining. With one long glance at her, he figured it was worth a try; Zelda was supposed to bear the Triforce of Wisdom, she would surely know what was happening to him.

"I feel pains… Here," rough fingers curled around the material of his shirt right above his heart, and her eyes widened at the gesture. "My heart races at times and my palms get all sweaty."

She pondered in silence, blue irises trained on the skin of said sweaty palm. “Have you talked to a doctor?”

He nodded, curling his hand into a loose fist and already losing hope. “Just this morning.” The princess gave him one encouraging nod and sighed at his answer. “He doesn’t know what it can be.”

Leaves from bushed rustled as a gentle breeze swept by, carrying her sweet scent towards him which prompted a wheezing fit from him. Zelda shot up from her seat in a rush to help her dear friend, but if anything her touches on his shoulder and arms only made his heart beat faster. Accepting his fate like a noble man he could have been in another life, he held her by the wrists gently and spoke softly. “I don’t think there’s a cure.”

"There must be!" She insists and takes a breath to organize her thoughts. "When does it hurt?"

"I don’t really know."

"You must know, Link. Come on, think."

He remained silent for a moment, registering the warmth coming from her and the slight flush of her cheeks, the way her hair shone under the sun and the curve of her lips. If possible, his heart quickened its pace. “It hurts when I look at you.”

Zelda blinked, taken aback. “What?”

"Yeah, it," Link swallwed thickly, "It hurts now, I don’t know. It’s beating fast and- and my hands- I-"

His blabbering was cut short by the distinctive sound of muffled giggles coming from his companion, who had her gloved hands pressed to her lips and eyes crinkled in a smile, and the confused frown he wore told her that he really didn’t know what was happening. So with a short breath and a wide smile on her lips, Zelda turned to him and started. “You aren’t broken, Link.”

"I’m not?"

She nodded her head, “And you aren’t going to die either.”

Link gave one relieved sigh, hand falling over his heart that had somewhat calmed down… But he still didn’t know what he had. “What is it, then?”

She hummed, lips tugging at the corners in a soft smile. “There’s no easy way to say it,” with a breathy sigh, the princess added, “You’re in love.”

He blinks. “I am?”

"I don’t know. You tell me."

His fingers tightened their hold around her wrists ever so slightly, pads pressing down on her pulse and feeling that it was as fast as his own. A hand travelled to cup the gentle curve of her jaw, pink lips parted at his touch, and a sharp pair of eyes so used to seeing abnormal things watched as her throat worked when she swallowed. He leaned in as she did the same, the touch of their lips was soft and brief, but it was enough to get the message across, and his heart thumped against his ribcage with enough force to make him worry. But there was no reason to worry, he reasoned as he caressed her cheek with his thumb, he could bear a little pain if it meant he would be with her. 

Then there was more muffled giggling.

And then there was an angry Zelda.

"Impa! Stop eavesdropping!"


	4. iv: Northern Downpour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when u finally update teh fanfic /dancing alien gif
> 
> Leave it to me to bring back old memes, but ahoy! Here you have another OOT Zelink!
> 
> This Panic! At The Disco song really inspired me when I was coming home from the market, so I had it playing on loop while my banana bread was in the oven so I could try to get the best out of it. I was supposed to post it yesterday, but alas I was without any internet connection.
> 
> Don't expect it to make much sense, though haha like most patd and fob songs, I just don't understand what they mean 80% of the time. Some parts of it are left to your imagination, too, so I can't confirm if something happened or not.
> 
> Also, I named one of the brats Colin, because I thought it would be interesting if Colin from TP was named after one of the princes - that is actually just one excuse for my lack of creativity when it comes to giving people names lmao
> 
> Enjoy and review if you could, yes! xx

* * *

**iv: Northern Downpour**

* * *

The wind was blowing; he could feel it in his face. It was cold, wet. It was raining also, he realized hazily.

He could not see clearly. There was not much one lonely eye could see in the dark, but he made out flashes of light and white streaks crossing the sky. The wind blew, the rain fell hard on his face, soaking his hair and clothes underneath the heavy armor he wore. It felt like home.

He thought of her, with her long flowing hair and clear eyes, pale lips that stretched in a pretty smile when her kids ran up to her. They were her main source of happiness; with their father gone, she was left alone to raise them and sit by herself on the elegant throne room again, fragile shoulders squared and head balancing her expensive heavy crown. She told them stories of how her and their favorite knight once travelled through time, they listened to her, awed, but to the young boys it was only a made-up story crafted by the two and nothing more; a simple bedtime story.

They were the spitting image of her. Thankfully.

She protected them from the world, dedicated all her free time to her children and often times ran into him and them while he was telling her boys the tale of his adventure elsewhere, one she did not participate. He was their favorite; it was through the young princes that he was allowed to take a seat every evening on their table and share a meal together. They were insistent and persistent, but they did not need to beg much for their mother gave in so easily, with that breathtaking smile he saw very so often nowadays.

He insisted she loved her boys so for they were the only things her husband left behind. She said she loved them simply because they were hers.

She said he was letting his jealousy show. He growled just to prove her point.

He would never understand it. Sitting by the embers after a long day and rubbing his chin, he would never know what it was like to have a child of his own. He would never marry. His father had been a knight of Hyrule and died like so, killed in battle, and had his mother not been mortally wounded she would have needed to raise him alone. Not all women were like Zelda, with money to spare and maidens to look after her children while she went about doing her work. He was well aware Malon was more than willing to accept him, but he would rather not put her through the pain if he followed in his father’s steps. She would someday find someone suitable to run the ranch with her. Besides, his heart was already taken.

A raindrop fell on his scarred eye, jerking off his thoughts and prompting the captain to stand. His men were already up and about searching for cover from the rain, but he simply stretched and stood there for a while more, just gazing out at the dark and ignoring the stares.

“Captain Link?”

Thunder rumbled above, muffling the sound of his acknowledging hum, so the knight called him once more. And again, and again, until he finally answered aloud. “I will stand guard.”

“But Captain-”

“You are dismissed.” His tone held finality. It was an order. Sullenly, the knight saluted and backed away, sharing odd glances with his friends. Their captain found a sturdy rock to sit on in the middle of the clear field, uncovered and open to attacks. The armor weighed his weary body down, but still he sat with a straight back and arms crossed, just looking out into the darkness.

That was all he did these past years. He simply watched, usually from afar, saw the events unfold before his blue eye and stood his ground like an obedient knight, only moving when required.

He thought of her again.

In days like this of heavy storms and wild winds, he could feel the smell of gingerbread coursing its way through the castle from the kitchen, an old family recipe that she prepared with her boys and the help of a few cooks. It was served with tea for them and hot cocoa for her brats, like he so liked to call them to tease her,  and usually Colin, the youngest, fled the kitchen with still warm gingermen wrapped in a clean napkin, bolting through the hallways until he found his favorite knight sitting at the castle front steps by himself with that distant look in his eye. He enjoyed when he did it, for usually Zelda followed and when she arrived, she was slightly out of breath and flushed in the face. The last time he had seen her like that was before her marriage when they were both young and did not have as much responsibilities.

In the days when the sun was out but the winds blew her golden tresses, one could find her with her children in her study, cutting up and folding weathervanes, pinning the colorful papers to sticks so her kids could run around happily or stick it in flower vases outside on the balconies and watch as it spun around and around, conducted by the strong gusts. He helped sometimes, always dragged by the royal brats by the sleeves of his tunic, but while he was so good in handcrafting, he had no skill whatsoever to make their loved pinwheels. She helped, always so patient, tracing the lines he should cut and the sides he should bend just slightly so they arch, but never fold lest they would not spin. He always cracked a grin.

Sometimes when he would report in the mornings, she was still in the dining hall sitting alone, for her boys, like all other members of the opposite sex, barely chewed their foods and ate with such _grace_ it left her wondering just who they inherited that trait from. He knew she sometimes wanted to joke, _“They act just like you,”_ but refrained from doing so and instead bit the inside of her cheek while putting more sugar than necessary into her cup of coffee, rendering it too sweet even for her tastes. If only, he would think to himself before she gave him permission to speak, if only.

Zelda was better at evading certain topics than he was, had always been. She had her ways; many times in the past, she was able to focus his attention elsewhere and he would only remember she was supposed to answer his question hours after they parted ways, it was unnerving, but now he wished he could do the same. He concluded her sons, for all their begging, never managed to get an answer from their beautiful mother and so they sought him instead, bombarding him with too many questions about their past and relationship. They asked when and if they would marry; it was not that they did not miss or like their deceased father, it was that they did not want their mother alone. He raised eyebrows at that, of all people they chose him and he doubted the tales of their adventure had something to do with that.

Some other times when the monsters of his past were swarming his head and he could not sleep, he took a walk in the gardens, the courtyard he had maneuvered through and sneaked past guards back then, and sometimes saw her standing in the balcony, not looking at the moon or stars, but at him. He would nod, she would give him a small wave of her bare hand, and they would stand for a minute or two silently holding their gazes, never speaking as to not draw attention, but conversing all the same.

Wind blew by again coming from the north, bringing with it more dark clouds and a heavy downpour. It showered him so hard he could barely keep his eye open, but he did so anyways, chills running through his body caused by the memories.

Despite all things, there were rare times when they found themselves alone that she would melt in his arms, submerged him in her warmth and took him to a place where he did not need to worry if he would wake up in the next morning after a night in the woods. There to the east behind the ragged slopes of the rocky mountains, she lay in bed underneath warm comforters, staring out her window and wishing he could be somewhere safer, preferably by her side, but all he did was for her and her alone, and the promise of her welcoming touch was always enough to bring him back in one piece.

Allowing his back to arch and finally acknowledging the weight of his cravings, the Hero of Time smiled to himself, musing on how he often missed the feel of her skin.


End file.
